Merry Christmas x

As has become tradition (thanks to always running around like a lunatic on Christmas Day) I wish everyone a very Merry Christmas Eve.  I've promised myself that 2012 will be better than 2011 and it's getting off to a good start: it's nearly come to the end of the year and I've still not heard from JP, I've made up with my sister (how much it will help I've no idea, she's still insane), my beautiful nephew is about to have a brother or sister and all's well and healthy, but most of all, Mum's cancer check up got moved forward sending her into meltdown, but we begged the lovely nurse and he moved it to 19th rather than 28th December, so it wouldn't hang over us like last year.. it's clear! Another one in March and if that's clear, she'll be officially in remission.

2012 is going to be great and not because it can't be worse than 2011, but because I'm going to make it great!

Merry Christmas everyone and a very Happy New Year! x

Sometimes even I think I'm a man...

I'm not the most girlie of girls - pink looks silly on me and yellow makes me look jaundiced!  I wear a lot of black because of my job, but also because it makes my thighs look marginally smaller.  This does not, however make me manly.  My male friends like talking to me and my brother and I have a lot in common, I can generally talk to anyone, including women.  I'm not big on gossip, unless it's seriously good and about someone I don't like, I'd rather talk about other things.  Is this the real reason I'm still single?  My girlfriends think men are crazy to be intimidated by me, yet they might have a point...

I hate romantic comedies
I love F1 and rugby
I can reverse park faster (and more accurately) than most men
One of my favourite films is Die Hard (Alan Rickman - what's not to love?!)
I look stupid with long flowing hair (my face is too small)

Having said that...

I cry every time I see My Girl
I love (and am slightly addicted to) shoes and underwear
I never leave the house without make up on
I'm short so live in heels
I've been in love with Robert Downey Jnr since I was 12!

A friend of mine told me the other day "You have f*ck off written across your forehead, that's why men never approach you."  My reply was "Well, at least it saves me having to say it."  I was, of course, kidding, but could she be right?  I'm never chatted up in bars (usually because I'm with a big group, and usually a male majority), but I did the other night; he was lovely and called Dan.  He was on his work night out with his (very) drunk boss, and he asked me for directions to the next good bar.  Being completely oblivious to his actual motive, I gave him directions and chatted to him for a while, then said goodbye... oops! Apparently he was dropping bomb-sized hints for my phone number, I had no idea.

Actually, I think I've figured out the real reason why I'm still single...

It's the Final Countdown...

It's been nearly a year since I started this blog and I can honestly say it's been the worst year of my life.  I had no idea it was going to turn out so badly when I started, I thought January was a bit of a glitch.  I thought 2007 was the worst year; I lost my Gran and Grandad, my safety net and lifeline, and realised how tough the real world is having left the safety of full time education.  It's been one hell of a journey.  Now I'm sat here in a completely different house (it's not my house, it's a temporary, but very comfortable, shelter I'm sharing for a few nights), but everything else is exactly the same: same clothes, same job, same laptop, same phone sat next to me and I'm still alone, it's exactly the same a whole year on.

There's something positive glittering on the horizon at the minute.  I feel like I've gone back 6 years and I've just left university (again) and I have no where to live (again) and no direction to go in (again), but while job hunting I came across a position in Malaysia.  After two days of weighing pros and cons, I decided to apply for it - I didn't get it - but the point is, I applied for it.  I realised that while I have no ties here anymore, I have no ties here anymore, I'm free to go wherever I like and I might never be this free again.  It's a strange thing to get excited about, but it's still a valid point.

Last year I set myself some resolutions and, bizarrely, I achieved them, so now I'm going to set myself some more.  It's a bit early, but so were the last ones.

• Get a part-time bar job: I need to get out and meet people that aren't the children I teach (or their parents).
• Get mortgage advice and house hunt.
• Find out where I want to live: Do this before the last one!
• Spend more time with friends.
• Join an Am-Dram / theatre club.

I figured I can't change the things I really want to: make Mum better, stop SLT making my life hell, meet the man of my dreams (who doesn't sleep with my friends), fix my ankle, make Mr Barman and Mikey happier, etc, but I can better the ratio of good:bad, hopefully this will make life a little more manageable.

Staying on the positive note that this bottle of whiskey has brought me to, I'll review bits and pieces.  I've not heard anything from JP since the night I told him I never wanted to see him again.  I've walked past his work three times without fear of him suddenly appearing on the pavement and I can say 'my ex slept with the bridesmaid at my friend's wedding' without being sick.  I rarely think about him anymore, it's such a nice feeling.  I'm not sad about missing him and I know I don't want him back.  I thought about what would happen if I saw him again and my mind drifted off onto what I wanted for dinner; that lack of focus has to be a good thing, right?  The only thing I worry about is how I treat my next boyfriend.  I've been out with a few guys since then, but nothing has ever really happened and it's never gone past a few dates (and one very drunken thai meal and even then it only involved drunken snogging - I don't even remember it!).  I think it's going to take someone very patient to put up with me and my neurotic panic attacks - I'm not even going to think about what will happen when someone says they love me again...

I don't have to see my x-flatmate's boyfriend all the time, everyday, when I get up in the morning, when I come in from work and when I get a drink in the middle of the night.  I also don't have to worry about him wandering around the flat in my towel (and nothing else) or bumping into my sister in the same state.  Although I'm between houses/flats/sofa's/spare rooms, I only have to put up with the people I choose to (thankfully I also like their partners).

I've got so many projects on the go at work and so much I need to do and so many impossible targets to hit, but as long as I've got other things in my life, I think it'll be fine.  Sometimes I get so sucked into work I forget there's a world outside.  I don't want to be someone who lives to work.  When I love work it's ok, but when work hits the fan, not so much.  I need a balance, and I don't mean laptop in one hand, latte in the other!

So, here's to 2012, or at least to the final month of 2011.  It must get better - the understanding being that it certainly can't get any worse.  It really is the final countdown...

Everyone's Got an Opinion!

And so we are to strike again! This time I have to make the decision; last time my union decided against it, so I went in regardless, whereas this time I get to actually state "I do not agree with strike action!"  The fact is, I don't and I never have.  Everyone has an opinion about people who strike, but I'm pretty firm on my belief that it's the individual's decision.  I agree with action short of strike, but I really feel that the wrong people suffer in a strike.  The opposing view is that the situation is so bad, we need strong action to show Government we are serious.  This I also agree with, but not as much as I agree with my previous statement.

When I say I am a teacher everyone asks if I'm striking. My reply is never greeted with 'good for you' or 'ah yes, I completely understand'.  It's always along the lines of 'you're wrong'.  It doesn't seem to matter whether my answer is yes or no, we're always wrong.

Before you make a judgement on people who strike, particularly teachers, give yourself an insight into the truth of teaching.  Volunteer as an LSA for a day in your local school, go and help run RAG Week, go and help backstage at the school play or help run an after school club.  If you can't do any of these, read the book by Charlie Carroll.  By the end of it, you'll be a lot more willing to listen to the reasons why we do what we do.

The Comedy of Teenage Body Language!

The comedy of watching teenagers hug. It's like they're from an alien planet and learnt the skill via youtube: it's exactly the same every time and they have a complete dislike to human contact.  It makes me wonder why they bother.

I'm currently sat having coffee and waiting for a friend, I'm people-watching and writing this - that is, after all, the only reasonable thing to do while waiting for someone!

So, the hug. You've all seen it and it goes like this...  Two people meet, they exchange the same 'hi-iy' in that up/down tone of voice that suggests surprise despite the fact that they arranged the meeting.  They stand at a respectable distance and linger just a little bit too long that they become suddenly aware of their bodies (please note: adults don't linger and so the hug naturally falls into place, this can lead to too little awkwardness, but that's another story). She will then tuck her hands into her sleeves and raise her arms, wrists pointing forward, while not moving, it is the other person's job to guage the distance; tricky because you don't know whether to go for a full-body hug or just an arm hug. And so comes the actual contact. The other person moves in taking the first person by surprise, who actually steps away, this results in a full-upper-body hug with their feet miles apart! This incredibly awkward encounter usually lasts just seconds before they spring apart and carry on on their merry ways.  If it weren't for the friendly 'hi-iy' at the beginning, you'd assume they were arch enemies trying to 'out-nice' each other (you know 'out-nice, we've all been there - you meet your ex's new girlfriend and you have to appear completely cool and fabulous so you try to out-nice her, this also works with the girl you hate in front of mutual friends; heaven forbid you should be the awkward one).

The body language of teenagers makes me love my job. I spend hours everyday with the strange hormonal specie and I've made body language my life's study! So many times I think about my own awkward hugs/handshakes or worse - both! With the unfortunate result of stabbing your friend in the stomach as they went for a hug and you went for a handshake... Definitely more of a male problem, but I've done it too!

So next time you start complaining about teenagers hanging around town centres, watch how they hug - it's so entraining!

I'm not Wonder Woman!

How many times have you wanted to escape to the bottom of the garden and disappear inside your imagination? This is something I have wanted to do throughout my entire life. I doubt I was the only 7 year old that wandered around wardrobes looking for Narnia, but I'm probably the only 26 year old who still does it.

Being a PE teacher with a broken ankle that needs operating on, who's had to move home after going broke to live with a parent she never really got on with, is not an ideal situation for anyone. I'd love to run back to Liverpool and drink during the week while playing my guitar to adoring (albeit very drunk) fans in my favourite pub again. I loved those years, but running away with your teddy and a spare pair of pants isn't an option when you're a grown up.  Try telling that to my over emotional sister.  A year ago we had lots of long talks about how she over-analyses and over-reacts to basic situations (ie 'would you like to come over for dinner tomorrow?' translates into 'I don't like you, but I feel I have to invite you over and if you don't accept my hostile yet superficially nice invitation, I will hate you forever'), this would make sense if it were a text from a serial killer, but not when it's from your Father!  She was worried she was losing her tenuous grip on reality and she asked for my help. I told her to see someone who could help her and talk her through her anxieties. She never did, yet she kept asking my advice and, surprisingly, it never changed. She then threw me into the middle of situations to sort them out for her (ie Dad asking what he's done to upset her and me explaining he's done nothing, then her screaming and crying at him and me explaining 'she's not in a good way right now'). Now she's decided that we're all bullying her and she needs time on her own to sort her head out. While I would certainly agree with this, it is after all what I told her to do a year ago, we have been forbidden to contact her - a message that, ironically, came from our Dad. Having put me in the middle for so long and having had to clear up so many of her messes over the years, I'm now told I'm being awful to her and I must not contact her! I'm a little upset by this. Dear Father's reaction was 'your little sister isn't coping and she needs some time to sort herself out' - yes, that would be the little sister who is 5years older than me, the one I've looked after since I was 6. He then said 'I've got my own problems too' and unleashed the latest crisis in his life. It's tough when you realise your parents aren't indestructible superhero's, but when did they make me one instead?  He said I'm stronger than her and I cope better with life - he's clearly never come across this blog! What my sister fails to realise is that we already have one sister who refuses to speak to me (2years ago we had an argument, she beat the hell out of me and still refuses to answer my calls/texts/cards/emails etc, even though she has made up with the rest of the family), so her forbidding contact as well is going to have a bit of an effect on me.

When I was 18 I ran away from home. I was having all sorts of problems with family, abusive relationships, parents divorce, sister's divorce, life as we know it ending and to top it off I had a miscarriage (no one knew about the pregnancy so why tell anyone about the miscarriage). I found a university miles away where no one knew me and I ran as fast as my little Vauxhall Corsa could carry me. The difference between this and my sister's decision to 'run away' (from us), is that I was 18 she's 31, but more importantly, no one knew I was running away. Still no one knows I ran away. I have a responsibility to my family and friends to not make them feel like sh*t by revealing my life was so awful I left them all. I didn't and still don't want them to know the reason I moved to Liverpool was to get away from everything that reminded me how much I'd messed up, including them. I got my head together and three years later came home with a degree - it was a brilliant disguise. My sister does not have the same responsibility. I feel like I've pushed her over the edge when all I did was invite her for coffee. I feel like I've caused her endless sleepless nights, put her on medication and left her a jibbering wreck! Right or wrong, I feel guilty for not helping her... But I tried to. A year ago I tried to help her and I've been trying ever since. Maybe I tried too hard and pushed her the other way. I don't know and I never will because she doesn't want me around right now. I'm so angry at her selfishness and her stupidity and her lack of emotional stability and I feel guilty for that too. Who the hell am I to be angry at her when she's suffering?

Yet I'm the one picking up the pieces: talking and listening to Mum so that she stops crying, listening to Dad about his crisis, putting my other sister back together and reassuring her she's done nothing wrong, trying not to drive myself mad with the knowledge that I've not seen my three nephews for 2 years (oh and trying not to get fired or put on long term sick because of my ankle). I know I'm strong, but I'm not Wonder Woman!

"I feel I have nothing to offer you!"

I've never understood this term; I wasn't aware that the exchange of property, wealth or possessions was part of my current dating culture.  This is the 'excuse' Mr Barman gave me when he finished our little fling-ette (not a full fling, given that we only went as far as bonus snogging).

The very simple answer is this:

• If I want to be swept off to lavishly expensive restaurants, I'll drive myself, or get a taxi so we can both drink, and anyway, I'm unlikely to have anything to wear if we went more than twice!
• Ok so we can't make wild passionate love on your kitchen floor, but 1) what kind of girl do you think I am? and 2) my floor's fine for that!

Why do I like spending time with you?  I once told you you're the most interesting person I've ever met and you have a smile that makes me want to instantly rip your clothes off.

Do you need to offer me anything else?

Do we share good news as quickly as we share bad news?

This is the question I've found myself wondering a lot over the past few weeks.  I've got my girlfriends from university and although we live spread across the country, we keep in touch all the time and meet up whenever we can.  Over the years we've seen each other through births, deaths and marriages and none of them mine, in fact whenever we catch up, it's usually me that struggles to find good news (I'm usually the deaths bit).  For a while I've just thought it's because the round-robin-style emails have caught me at a bad time, but now I'm not so sure.  Right now I'm mid-sentence in my latest reply to them and I've decided to just say positive things.  Having shared the cancer, JP, job-hating, homeless information over the past few months, I'm done with the depressing nature of my own correspondence.  Here's my problem: I don't have anything positive to say.  Sadly, one of the girls, is included by default and not by choice on my part - we had a big argument in the final year that we never really recovered form - so whenever I try to make a bad situation sound good (ie. I've had to move home, but it means I can save quicker for a house deposit) she always focuses on the bad and makes a point of it!

There are good things in my life at the minute: Mum's healthy and mostly sane (at the minute), my beautiful baby nephew is gorgeous, healthy and happy, I've not been sacked for telling SLT exactly what I think of the system they're running.  There are things that aren't awful, but they're not exactly inspiring or email-worthy.  I'm now starting to wonder if I just don't share good news when it comes around.  For example, I'm never the one to start these email chains.  Maybe, the next time I have some amazing news, I'll instantly email everyone: "Guess what guys, not being able to afford food means I've got into my Karen Millan dress..." Truth is, I'm getting so unbelievably bored of the sound of my own depressing voice that I need to do something - with my ankle still being bad, I can't kick myself up the bum!  So, time to make some more changes.  I've already fulfilled my new year's resolutions, maybe I should make some more a bit earlier than usual?  Learn guitar, learn Spanish, go rock climbing?

As for the email, I've decided not to answer their questions and just ask them how their lives are; hopefully they won't spot the massive elegant in the room!

It's official - I don't understand men!

So, I've been seeing this guy for a month and things were going really well. We were still in the 'getting to know you' stage, spending time together, going for coffee, drinks, dinner etc, it was going well.  He was very full on from the start, texting me every day, saying he couldn't wait to see me or that he was thinking of me.  It was nice. It was constant, so I became very aware of not rushing into things - particularly after JP.  It all hit the fan when he told me he didn't want to see me again... what?  The previous day he'd been telling me how much he liked me and how he'd wanted to ask me out since we met (a year ago!), and then like a light switch, he finishes it.  I'm not even sure what he finished! I thought we were still getting to know each other, we were taking things slowly, it was fine, no one was making any plans further than next weekend! Well, I wasn't, maybe he was?!  I asked him outright what happened, now he's not talking to me.

Any explanation please?

My brother in law said to be the other night "take things slowly, don't rush into it, just have fun and enjoy being around each other. If I wasn't married to your sister, I'd date you!"  It was an odd compliment, but he made a good point shortly afterwards: "Although, if I'm honest, sometimes you're so full on, you scare me, I'm not sure I'd stick around."  So I was really careful to take this one slowly (and my brother agrees, I was completely sane). So what happened?  I'm gutted!  Not the same kind of gutted as I was when JP broke me, but I really liked this guy. It took a hell of a lot to agree to meet with him, my heart has steel bars surrounding it and I was fine to keep it that way for a while.  I even began to think that the public health warning JP stuck to my forehead that night was beginning to fade.

So which one of us is mad?

The first time we went out, he introduced me to ALL his friends - literally, all of them descended on me in one big swoop. Thank god I'm a social butterfly, I was a hit, they loved me and thankfully they all have the same sense of humour as me.  He immediately told his sister and his Dad about me and they both wanted to meet me right away - luckily he put them off - that might have been too much even for me!  He is good friends with my sister and they know the same people, and he's been talking about me non-stop.  He was definitely the instigator of all 'rushing'.  One theory to emerge (yes, I know, I claim not to analyse, but I'm a girl - we all do it!) is that he was feeling insecure and decided to back away first.  Another was that the other night was pretty much us deciding to 'date' rather than 'get to know each other' and he freaked out.  I just don't get it, and with him now ignoring me, I don't think I'll ever know.

On a really bad 5minutes, I think it's me and that this is how it's going to be.  Maybe I'm one of those people who have great 'dates' but as soon as it gets serious, he'd rather be with the girl next door?!  The irony is the previous day I got a text from an ex suggesting me "catch up soon ;)" - I said no because I'd just met someone.  He apologised and said he felt really guilty.  Odd that he didn't feel guilty when he was lying next to the girlfriend he lives with while texting me.... he's such a git, I told him straight never to contact me with that suggestion again!

Oh well, another month another guy! Shame though, I really liked this one. He was the most interesting person I've met for ages, he was really funny, he (I think) cared about me, he wasn't perfect, but for the first time I didn't look into the future, I didn't care about his bizarre choice in TV viewing - why would I? It's not like I was the one planning a wedding!!

Yes, I'm not a moron!

I've just got back from a conference being held by dance teachers and experts from all over the County.  I have to admit, I hate conferences, I always feel completely inadequate and maybe not stupid, but certainly I spend most of the first half wondering which language they're speaking.  This time though, I had the great pleasure of not only understanding every word, but I was asked what I thought... oh my goodness, they actually considered me to be one of their experts!

After an awful day of full-blown nearly-crying, I left the school feeling angry, disheartened and like I didn't know what I was doing anymore.  Every teacher lives in fear of two things: 1) the kids will one day realise that 30:1 are easy odds - for them! and 2) that someone will find out we don't really know what we're doing.  So imagine my delight when I was consulted and asked to run a quick session, there and then, about how Stanislavski can be used in dance workshops focusing on the solo choreography in SwanSong...

Yes, I'm not a moron!

To give up... ? To let go... ?

Boys cause you sleepless nights no matter how they are related to you!  The latest boy to cause me to fall asleep at my desk is in fact one of my students.  This little lad lost his Mum last year and it has been a year of endless struggles.  He is in my tutor group, so I'm the person he sees the most often and I consider him to be, as the others, one of my kids!  He has spent the year getting into trouble almost every day.  Nothing major, he is a good lad, but small random events; chewing gum, missing detentions, talking and answering back, the usual teenage boy stuff.  The problem is every time I look at him, I can see him screaming out for help... or is he?  We are only two weeks into the new term and he's been in trouble again.  So the question is, which one of us is overreacting?  Is he actually just a hormonal teenage boy?

Having spent a lot of time with him and his family over the past year, I worry over the slightest thing he says.  He looks after his little brother and is becoming more and more responsible around the house, helping with the shopping and the school run. Dad is brilliant, but how the hell do you cope with losing your incredible wife and finish raising your children, desperately trying not to fall apart in the process.  We managed to get him and Dad into therapy, but with the massive gaps in the process, he only got six weeks - how do you support a bereaved 12 year old in six weeks? We also managed to get his Dad help and slowly, they're getting there.  But, it's just not enough.  Last Christmas, I had to face up to the fact that I can't make this better; I can try and I can support him and be there for him to talk to, but I can't make this go away and I can't 'cure' him.  Now I'm having to figure out if his behaviour is because he's a teenager or because he's struggling?  If anyone has any ideas, please feel free to suggest them...

I guess I need to stop panicking.  I worry every second that I'll miss something or that there's more I could be doing.  I'll never give up on him, ever.  But I think I need to let him go...  This is going to be hard.

The best piece of advice I've been given in a long time...

"I come across a lot of people in my job and it's very difficult to find people who are kind and nice to be around.  I really value the friendships I have.  If you find someone who makes you feel good about yourself, who makes you smile and feel relaxed, then spend time with them."

Whether backwards or forwards, I'm certainly moving!

This feels like a step backwards, but is being made so that I can take a giant leap forwards, so technically this is a run up...

Having been kicked out of the flat (unnecessarily long story about being stitched up by my flatmate and not having enough money to find a place on my own again), I've made the painful decision of moving home for a bit.  For any adult who has lived away from parental-types for any period of time, you'll understand what a complete nightmare this is.  It took a long time for me to realise it's not the end of the world: yes, I'm having to put my dining table, my TV, my kitchenware and my fabulous sofa into storage.  Basically everything I've worked for for the past two and a half years will be boxed up, locked up and it will see daylight when I'm financially solvent again!  For a long time I felt like I was back from uni (five years ago) again and having to come home and start my 'normal' life, but finally I'm seeing it for what it is.  This is a great opportunity to save (a hell of a lot of) money so that I can buy a house in the next couple of years, something I wouldn't be able to do while paying extortionate rent.

Another positive is the amount of people I've had offer me a place to live: Mum, Dad, oldest sister and next sister up, plus numerous temporary sofa's.  All have been completely serious and it's been really nice knowing that I've got people around me who will step up when I need them.  After a shockingly s**t year, this was the final straw, but in the calm/cool light of day, isn't so bad (of course, give me a month of living back with Mum and I might change my mind).  So, it looks like I'll be spending a few months with one parent then the other, with the weekends at my sister's.

I've thought a lot about how my situation looks to people, well, like me, you know, the judgemental kind.  I massively judge people who are my age and still living at home, I just don't see the need for it; I have a responsible job, friends, responsibilities, so why should I be living with parents?  Well, the fact is, because the property market sucks and I've only just cleared the debt I built up over living away from home, meaning that if I'm going to remain a sensible, responsible person, I am going to need money.  To a judgemental person like me, I appear to be completely lame.  To my not-so-judgemental self, it's the difference between buying a house next year and buying a house in five years.  This understanding of shutting up and getting on with what you have to do, has partly come courtesy of Mr Barman.

Mr Barman has drifted through my life for the past two years and, as the name suggests, he works in the bar near my sister's house.  To my judgemental self (I really don't like this personality trait, but at least I acknowledge it's existence and I try not to let it out too often) I don't like that he's older than me, lives at home and works in a bar - in fact, my sister (who knows him much better and really likes him) frequently tells me off for judging a book by it's cover (i.e.. him).  Since getting to know him a bit better, I've had to consider changing his name to Mr Dark Horse.  As if to metaphysically slap me in the face, he has had more of a life than me in every way...  The reason he's living at home is to look after his Dad (the way of me choosing between my parents is that Mum is not coping with her diagnosis, so we're hoping that having me around focus' her a bit more), he was a firefighter for three years, but was diagnosed with a medical condition and was forced to leave the career he loved, he spent a couple of years travelling and taught English to children in South America, he speaks a few languages... Yep, that was the giant slap in the face I needed to realise just how wrong my judgemental self is.

The fact is, it doesn't matter what people like me think; where I live and who I live with does not determine who I am or what kind of person I am.  Anyone who is worth talking to will get to know what I've done and why I am where I am; if they judge me for it, then they're not worth knowing.  I really really hope Mr Barman never finds out how I judged him before I knew him.  More than that, I hope I stop judging people at all.

It wasn't meant to turn out like this:

I’m not supposed to be sat in the remnants of my life,

I’m not supposed to think of this as my swan song.

I’m not supposed to cry every time I get in the car,

Coz I’ve got time to think of all the things that went wrong.

I’m 26 and I have time to live, not sit here and dwell

On all the things I should have done and how to came to hell.

I’m not supposed to be looking through photos and cards,

I’m not supposed to be reading my diary from when I was 10.

I’m not supposed to be boxing up everything I own,

Even the good times look bad, everything from now till then.

I work hard and try my best and I never ever quit,

So why is it so hard to sleep, my head’s about to split.

I’m supposed to be happy in my job, I’ve worked so hard and long for,

I’m supposed to be with JP, we were in love and belonged together,

I’m supposed to have my own little house, I’ve saved my whole life for,

I’m not supposed to feel this vulnerable, when I’ve only been hit with a feather.

It seems so simple, so stupid and so small,

I really did think I could have it all.

This year I’ve lost the world I knew, all expectations I had are gone,

I really thought I did everything right, I thought I played the game.

With Mum, JP, now losing the flat, I’m back where I was years ago,

I thought I knew better and I’d learnt my lesson, clearly life didn’t think the same.

So now to start over and try to get it right, remember you’re over the worst bit,

Whatever happens now, it can’t get any lower, so shut up and get on with it!

The Secret to Good Sex (?)

I like to class myself in the 'normal' category when it comes to my sex life.  I'm not the biggest prude, I'm not the biggest whore - as Andie McDowell said in Four Weddings, "less than Madonna, more than Princess Di, I hope".  However, I recently had a conversation with my sister that made me very concerned, not particularly about me, but about her.  We were on the train heading for a night out with a girl I used to work with when she turned to me (still sober, I must add) and said "you'd be amazed what people do".
I replied with, "I doubt it, I went to university!"  This was prompted by my flatmate sending me a text that apologised for her not saying goodbye to us, but she was dressed "a bit slutty" and she didn't want me to see her.  This fascinated my sister - what on earth was she wearing.  I explained that we'd all done the sexy underwear and long coat routine, it was probably that.  The problem being, she never had.  We then got chatting (still sober) about her friend who performs a particular act on her husband, which completely freaked my poor sister out when she openly/drunkenly told her.  My sister turned to her other friend for conformation that she was correct in her shock - her friend agreed.  This led me to seriously worry about the state of her sex life, as sadly, the act in question was pretty basic (for fear of offending, I shall refer to everything indirectly or euphemistically).

Later in the night and after several cocktails (I really do mean several), my friend posed the question "so, what's the worst sex you've ever had?"  This made my sister spit her drink out in a water-feature-like manner at the shock of such a question.  As drunken girlies do, we compared stories - I must point out that this was not in a derogatory way, more like sharing comedy stories of situations we've found ourselves in.  We also got talking about the best and the most memorable sex.  One story in particular was when my then boyfriend and I got a little bit film-inspired and as he lifted me up and swept me into the bedroom, he smacked my head on the doorframe.  Another was when he over-dramatically ripped my phone from my hand mid-text, threw it across the room and passionately kissed me - sadly the phone went straight through the open window and he had to climb out and get it.  Incidentally the same boyfriend; he was fun.  It turns out that my antics were shocking to my sister; I don't think she judged me as a complete trollop, but I'm fairly sure it was an eye-opener, and no doubt she regretted posing the initial question on the train that day.

I've had boyfriends, but I've always been in a relationship and I've never had a one-night stand.  I'm always safe, I get regularly checked out, and I draw the line at anything that compromises hygiene!  The aforementioned ex boyfriend was probably the most memorable one, because he was so much fun.  My ex before him was very (very) intense and everything had to be perfect.  He used to use the term "making love", which is, of course, lovely when it happens, but he had to make every time special.  It was way too much pressure (he then stalked me for six months after we broke up, so it wasn't the best relationship in the world).  This one came along at the perfect time, I really needed to be reminded that sex can be fun as well as romantic.  He was also strangely athletic, so it was much cheaper than a gym membership too!  There are several variables to a healthy sex life: location (that covers a range of towns as well as rooms), clothing (again, covers a range of costumes/underwear/colours/heels etc), positions (see Cosmo for more information on that one), styles (romantic, fast, gentle, athletic, experimental - there's lots of options).  The most important thing is feeling comfortable and confident.  You should never do something you don't want to do and I am a strong believer in doing what feels right with someone it feels right with; I guess that's the reason I couldn't answer my friend's earlier question as to what the worst has been.  I've never had bad sex (touch wood - please don't curse me now).  I watch Sex and The City and laugh along with the moments of bad kissing, monotonous/repetitive/non-responsive action, bad hygiene, cringe-worthy boyfriends, but I've never actually experienced one for myself.  I've always wanted to be with the person, I've always been sure, I've never been intimidated or felt under pressure, I've always been intune to what they want and clear about what I want.  Maybe it's because we've always got to know each other first (I don't follow the three-date-rule, I follow the when-I-know-you rule).  Maybe that's the secret to good sex...

Given my sister's shock (please remember she's five years older than me), I had to consult my other older sister who is much more like me.  She agreed.  I'm normal.  As is she.  Now she is worried about our sister's sex life too!

How do you re-meet a stranger?

I feel like I’ve just been in a synopsis for a romantic comedy – I’m currently being played by Jennifer Aniston.  After a looooong day out and about in London, Mum and I collapsed onto the train at Waterloo, luckily we found a table so we could spread out a bit.  Well, we did until Mr Hottie stepped up and sat in front of me.  Being a hottie (potentially played by Robert Downey Jr – don’t ask why) I was absolutely fine with sharing our table!  Then another guy joined us and our little quad was complete as we rolled out of the station.  Mum and I were tired and as usual got a bit giggly and funny in our stories.  So we started nattering and I couldn’t help noticing just how hot Mr Hottie was…  sports gear (no idea why), random tattoos on inner left bicep and inner right forearm, black geek glasses, spikey dark hair, tanned and flippin’ beautifully toned!  Ok – so it’s 50mins from Waterloo, I had time to inspect!  The ticket-man came round and I noticed he also had a ticket going to the same station as me (Mr Hottie, not the man).  As he handed me back my ticket, he said “thank you mum”.  Thinking I’d heard him wrong I did a double-take and looked straight at Mr Hottie who was also stifling a laugh (as was our latest table guest). 

“Did he just call me Mum?”  I asked Mr Hottie.

“Yes – I was really hoping he’d call me Son.”

I turned to Mum, “what did he call you?”

Random man: “Nan, I think”

This led to a series of funny comments showcasing the wittiness of me, Mum and these two lovely gentlemen. 

Mum and I then got talking about other things and every now and then Mr Hottie would interject with another funny comment, when necessary.  This continued for the whole journey, so just to add to the list of positives: Me Hottie has a good sense of humour (and, more importantly, he’s not completely put off by mine).  As the train drew nearer our destination, I really wanted to openly flirt and some how get/offer a phone number; how this was going to happen, I have no idea, because it appears that I’ve lost all flirting power (it happened yesterday too).  Sadly with Mother in tow, flirting was never going to be an easy task.  So instead, I made sure he knew where I like to go out in town, that I live with a flatmate who’s away, that I teach at a local school and that I’m going to the rugby on Saturday.  If he doesn’t track me down, then at least all nearby passengers know where and when to rob me…!!

So, the big question is, how do you track down a complete stranger?  How do you recreate a once-in-a-lifetime chance encounter?  Personal ads are a no go – that’s just weird.  Same goes with local radio – that really is a rom-com only tactic.  Hmmm, such a shame, he really was lovely!

The Other Woman

"I'm sorry." That's what the bitch said. At my best friend's birthday, the bitch who slept with my boyfriend tells me she's sorry.  At least she'd waited until I was half way down the road after the party had ended.
"No you're not."
"What? I am. I'm sorry."
"No. You're not. Sorry is the easiest word in the world to say and the hardest to mean. So don't insult my intelligence by pretending you mean it."
She doesn't understand.

"Do you have any idea the guts it took me to get here today? The guts it took to walk through that door and see everyone who was at the wedding, everyone who knows he arrived with me and left with you? And why? Because you're better than me? Because you're easy? Because he instantly fell in love with you at first sight? The stupid thing is, I've considered all these possibilities, but actually, no one is thinking that, no one is judging me for what you two did, because these are my friends, and 18years of friendship counts for more than a quick fumble.
"You're not sorry, because you don't think you did anything wrong. When I saw you kiss him, I told you how it felt, I told you he'd just metaphorically punched me in the stomach. You carried on. You looked me in the eye and said you're sorry, you looked me in the eye and said you hated yourself for being 'one of those girls'.  Then you slept with him.

"Don't you dare tell me you're sorry. Don't you dare try and make me forgive you.  You know he told me he loved me just before he took you to bed?  Didn't you?  Would that have made a difference? You certainly knew I loved him.  And I actually think he meant it too, I think he did love me. I think you were a quick fix, something new seeing as though I'd walked out on him.

"Has he called you, by the way? He hasn't? There's a surprise.  I saw that one coming, because he's incredibly shallow - most men carry photos of their children/friends in their wallet, he carries photos of his car!  You see, I know him.  You think you meant anything to him? You're naïve.  Brighton from London is too much effort.  Do you even know his surname?  Do you know he refuses to acknowledge his middle name coz it's his Dad's? Do you know why he hates his Dad so much? Do you know he always wanted to be in the RAF but failed the recruitment because of his eyesight?  That's because you meant nothing to him.  That's what 2yrs of friendship brings you.  I mattered.  However much he f***ed up, I mattered to him.

"So, now you are 'one of those girls'.  You are someone women talk about behind their backs, you are kept away from husbands. You think the people inside look at you in the same way? You think our best friend doesn't wonder if you'll try it on with her husband now? You think Kate doesn't wonder about Jack? You think Sophie doesn't watch whenever you talk to Steve?  It says nothing about the men; if JP can tell me he loves me the day before I meet his family, tell me in all sincerity that we'll be together forever, then sleep with you, who knows what tricks you'll pull on them.  They may like you, but they'll never trust you.  You see, it's a double standard, the oldest known.  Men can sleep around and call it 'wild oat sowing', but women who do are considered whores!  It's not particularly fair, but it's the way society works. ie. You don't sleep with the man your friend's in love with - it's just not bridesmaid etiquette!  (JP is certainly not blameless, in fact if you think this rant is bad, you should hear what I've said to him!) 

"When you go back inside and everyone turns to look at you, ask yourself this, was sex with a complete stranger worth it?"

As I walked away I wished to anyone who was listening that I'd never taken JP to the wedding. I wished I'd never agreed to meet his family.  I wished I'd never gone to bed with him believing everything he said.  I wished I'd never fallen in love with him.  I wished he'd never walked into the office that day and said "what are you doing in here?"  I wish I'd never met him.

Rule number one - do not talk to me when one of us is naked!

Since joining the gym again, I've remembered all the ridiculous things that happen!  My brother and I used to spend ages swapping "Gym Horror Encounters" !  (They're much more dramatic than "stories")  So I thought I'd share a few with you, just to confirm that you are not alone in your endeavours...

• After a day at work I went straight to the gym and had the regular-bra-to-sports-bra change over.  A very simple process and one I've been doing since the age of 12 (I was an early developer!!).  However, at the crucial moment I was approached by a middle aged woman who came towards me with her hands out "do you need a hand, dear?"  NO!

• Rule number one - do not talk to me when one of us is naked!

• While running (I know, I'm so excited I can call myself a runner now) I usually end with a sprint.  I was sprinting as normal, but I didn't realise how much I swing/punch my arms when I run, so I accidentally smacked the emergency stop button mid-stride, cam to an abrupt stop fell forward and smacked my head on the treadmill dashboard!  Pressed Quick Start and carried on, looking around to see who saw - luckily it was a quiet day!

• My brother used to go to his very very posh gym before work, so standing at the sink shaving was not unusual.  So imagine his distress when the guy next to him put his foot up on the sink... Yep, apparently not everyone shaves their face in the gym!

• My sister goes to the same posh gym and was doing arm dips ( the one where the knee plate drops down and you're really high up).  Unfortunately, something really funny happened and she got the giggles, unable to carry or or stop she became stuck with her elbows locked very high off the ground.  The giggles turned to hysterics when she realised she could not get down.  Luckily the guy next to her (also at this point in hysterics) got off and helped her, just in time to see my brother walk past wondering what the hell had happened!

• After my first (and last) spinning class the other week, I left feeling slightly like jelly, went to walk down the stairs and stacked it all the ay into reception - think Run Fat Boy Run - sadly that one was witnessed!

• Women tend to wander around the changing room totally naked, but as long as their hair is in a towel, it's apparently ok!  Hmmm.  I overheard two strangers comparing underwear the other day - why don't you put it on then?!

• According to some male friends who also swap changing-room-ettiquette stories, men are worse.  It seems that pants are the the very last thing to put on, if only they could go on over trousers, eh? Men will put shirt, tie, jumper, jacket on first, will dry their hair first, shave first (see previous story - enough said), and at the last minute before they walk out, they'll put their pants on... why?!  Is there a particular al fresco moment that cannot wait till their at home?!

No doubt more will be added as the hilarity continues.  I like being at the gym again!

"Britain on Strike" - do you finally acknowledge we're important, then?

Raise your hands if you can tell me what the strike today was all about? No? Neither could this morning's reporters! It never fails to amaze me the audacity of their inaccuracies! The government have just announced that single mothers will be hardest hit in the benefit cuts. So what do they do? To cover their own flaws, they rally them up against the teachers.  Reps from ATL and the NUT were interviewed, MP's were interviewed and single mothers were interviewed. Where were the ordinary teachers being interviewed? Considering we're the ones being hit, we're the ones taking action, I didn't see a single regular classroom teacher interviewed.  So, what were "we" striking against?  3 things:

Retirement age being raised to 68;
Contributions being increased (currently 6.4% non negotiable);
Lower pension payments when we do retire.

Just to put this in completely selfish terms (it is my blog after all), what does this mean to me?  Well, I will be teaching stage fighting and break dancing until I turn 68. I will still be expected to leg it across the playground to break up two 15yr olds fighting and to carry out all my regular teacher duties. That also includes giving CPR (the updated version, of course, it changes every year), restraining students and teaching a full 25hr week timetable.  If I can't fulfil my duties, I will be sacked (as would anyone), if the school is kind enough to take it easy on my when I'm pushing 70 and anyone finds out, they will be sued for age discrimination.  I believe the term "screwed" becomes applicable here!  At the minute I pay approximately £120 into my pension and this increases each year with year's service.  If it increases as they plan, I will be paying nearer to £200 per month.  Teachers get no tax break, we pay the same as everyone else, so with £650 tax and NI, I will have to move home some time soon and there is absolutely no way I can afford a house (despite being very savvy with money in my early years, I'm clinging to my house deposit for dear life).  When I eventually retire I will get a pension I can live ok on, not "rolling in money", "not retire to Spain" money, but I'll be ok as long as I don't have a mortgage anymore.  With the cuts, I'll need to take out a second pension just to get by.

I love teaching.  I love my kids.  I love showing them that they can do anything their heart desires - after all, someone had to land on the moon and someone has to cure cancer!  I may "only teach drama and dance," but everyday I remind kids that the world is theirs for the taking, that they will make their place in history and that they are the centre of their own world. Some kids go home to parents who call them thick; some kids go home to parents who are unconscious drunk; some kids don't go home, they go to a care home; some kids go home to a loving caring family who tell them the same thing I do.  Some people build cars, computers or trains.  I'm in the business of building people!  And one day those people will be the future. I don't just teach children to be actors and dancers, I teach them to be decent human beings.  There is huge job satisfaction in what I do, but that's all there is. If anyone wanted to be a teacher now, I'd tell them straight that it's a thankless, moneyless job; they will work all hours and when they're not working they'll worry. The holidays don't exist, it's a chance for us to work from home! If you don't know a teacher, or if you aren't one, you won't understand.  I'd be happy for any news reporter to spend a day with me.  I'll introduce them to child protection, data, GPG's, assessment, CPD, cross curricular, extra curricular, going beyond your remit, sleepless nights, marking. You want overtime? It doesn't exist.  

I'm not a marte, I knew what I was getting into when I trained and I wouldn't do any other job in the world.  But don't you dare stand there on your pedestal and tell me I'm wrong to stand up for my profession. How many highly skilled, highly qualified, highly responsible professionals get paid as little as we do?  I don't agree with strike action, I never have and I never will, I believe there is another way, but I will also support my colleagues who do believe it's right, because it's their choice - it's one of the few choices we have left!

It's a bit like a paper cut!

Life's a funny thing.  When you're feeling down, the slightest thing will make the world stop, like running out of staples or forgetting your lunch.  I refer to it as the paper cut effect; it's tiny and insignificant, but hurts like hell.

There are so many incredible people out there.  I've never forgotten Mitch; it's been two years now and I still think about him most days.  I've never forgotten about Michael either.  I've met some brilliant people and some not-so-brilliant people, but everyone has reminded me of what I have - I'm surrounded by friends and a family who love me and who go out of their way to help me.  I'm very lucky.

So, when things get a bit rubbish, remember, paper cuts may hurt, but they don't last forever.

Goodbye.

So I took the love of my life to my best friend's wedding at the weekend. We had a fabulous time; she looked gorgeous, the photographer was brilliant, food was unbelievable, venue was perfect - easily the best wedding of all time! I've known the bride for 18yrs so we're pretty close and I've known her bridesmaid for 4yrs; we're all very similar so hit it off straight away and the rest is history.

History being a literal term when I walked in on the aforementioned love of my life with the bridesmaid. Having followed mine and JP's relationship for the past few months (and possibly the 2yrs before that), I've no doubt you're screaming dump the b***ard and key his car while you're at it!  Well, that's exactly what I did (well, not the car bit).  After such a brilliant day; sun shining, dancing continually to every song and managing not to cry at the speeches, luckily the "incident" happened at the end of the night and it was for my eyes only. I got to our hotel room, changed while sobbing on the phone to my sister (who after a quick calculation worked out she was still well under the limit), and got the hell out of there without the bride seeing me - yes, it included shimmying down the fire escape!

After an incredibly long argument, I finally made it clear that never wanting to see him again also includes speaking, texting, listening to and ever being within 100metres of each other.  He also now understands that telling me he loves me and hooking up with my friend within a 3minute window is not a smart move.  I think my feelings can be summarised in my re-titling of the well known book "Women are from Venus, Men are from Dante's Ninth Circle of Hell".

I have several targets for the next few months: stop crying (I'm the least emotional person I know and yet a complete wreck for the past 24hrs), remember all the reasons why he's the scum of the earth, realise that everything he told me was a complete lie and that he is the idiot, not me, stay sane, keep in touch with family and friends who have the same low opinion of him and then eventually, forget he ever existed!

Steps to recovery...
(Updated as they happen)

Day 1:

• Accept that you will not stop crying and so don't bother putting your mascara back on.
• Accept that it's ok to sit in your PJ's with a bottle of wine and a corkscrew then cry into the empty glass.
• Do Look Back in Anger - he said some awful things - write them down while you remember them.
• Realise you made a mistake by thinking he's the only man in the world.

Day 2:

• Get your arse in the gym to work out your anger (plus it realises good mood hormones - that's as scientific as I get).
• Remember: how much he hated your job/that he always told you you're wrong/that he made you feel so stupid at times/that he told you you were thinner when you met while looking at you in your favourite dress (when actually you were 1/2 stone heavier)/that he's obsessed with money and honestly believes it's a measure of success/plus any other crap thing he said to you.
• You may still cry, but only for the next 12hrs so time yourself!

Day 3:

• Ok it's time to stop crying for good! He's not worth the dehydration!
• Acknowledge the positive things about him, but always tie them in with the many fatal floors. ie. Yes, he'd make a brilliant Dad, but he'd also make a terrible husband, so stop letting your ovaries do the thinking.
• Don't be around happy couples - it resembles being drop-kicked in the stomach into a brick wall!
• Don't be around miserable couples - you do not EVER want to be referred to as "the bitter one" or "the man hater".
• Realise he is a one-off and that there are lots of genuinely good men out there, you've just been really REALLY unlucky!
• For christ's sake start eating again. Consuming 500calories in 3days while also hitting the gym may give you a flat stomach, but it will also give you bad skin and black eyes.

Day 4:

• Talking of black eyes, insomnia is proving a problem as you swerve to avoid the central reservation (again). Go to the pharmacy and get some sleeping tablets.
• DO NOT PHONE HIM.
• DO NOT "DRUNKENLY" TEXT HIM.
• If you do feel the need to contact him, email your sister instead, she's already promised to delete anything titled "JP" without reading it. It makes you feel better and you are safe in the knowledge that he never received it and your sister is still ignorant to your insanely irrational ravings.

Day 5:

• It's time to check the talent! Yes, it may seem a bit early, but it's important to realise he's not the only man in the world or indeed the most gorgeous/intelligent man in the world. It's time to go ahead and start comparing!
• Get active. Join a club, join the gym, join everything going. Get out there and meet people, don't ditch your old friends, that's never a good option, but make new ones, they'll remind you you're not grotesque!
• Make a massive change. Your car, your hair colour, both?! Think Sliding Doors - Gwyneth looked so much cuter with cropped hair.

Day 6:

• It may be time to stop talking about him. Yep, it's a toughie, but you've spoken about him everyday to the point where you're sick of your own stories!
• Have a random night out. It may be at the local pub, you might end up singing round Covent Garden. Grab your friend(s) - it only takes one - and have a night out. Wear your favourite outfit and be a social butterfly while strutting your stuff.

Day 7:

• Don't Get Mad, Get Over It!
• Move on. He broke your heart and you'll probably relapse every now and then.  But remember how he treated you, how he humiliated you, how he let you down and disrespected you. 

I'm so much better than JP. I would never betray my best friend, I'd never think of hurting him. He never deserved me or what I gave him. Yes, I loved him. Yes, I'd have done more and given him more. Yes, some may call me a mug because of it, but when I look back over the past 2years, I wouldn't have done anything differently. I've realised I was right all along; when I love, I love more than anything, I don't hate for long, but I hurt for months.

Think Adele - "The scars of your love remind me of us, They keep me thinking that we almost had it all". You lost me, JP. And you're going to miss me more than I miss you!

The Half Way Mark...

So, we're six months in, time to check the progress of Project: Sort Life Out.  On New Year's Eve I said I'd do several things in order to stop messing around and get my life back on track; it had become a habit rather than a life.

Sign up for Race For Life - check! Not only that, but I've re-joined my old gym and I've started running, now I can do 5km without thinking about it.  This is a particularly proud moment, because I've never been able to run, I fall over! Quite literally, I'd get into a rhythm and fall flat on my face. Loads of people have tried to help me (including several gym instructors), but nope, even running from the boat to the bar on my sister's hen weekend I fell spread-eagled on Lymington sea front in front of holiday-makers eating ice cream and enjoying the view... Thank goodness I was drunk or that would have been embarrassing!!

Fitting into favourite dress - check!  The gym bit has no doubt helped with that one.  I'm eating healthier as well; have you ever realised how after the gym all you want to eat is fresh/brightly coloured food? Odd!  Anyway, there's a big important party coming up, for which I have to look and feel fabulous, so the dress is essential.

Holiday - double check!  Best holiday in years (only holiday in years).  Tenerife with the girls was awesome and so much fun. We did nothing but sunbathe, swim, walked for miles, ate everything in sight, it was bliss.  We managed one hideously drunken night (so bad, breakfast was impossible), that involved karaoke and a lot of old northern people; for some reason my northern accent becomes freakishly strong when surrounded by my own kind!

Stunt driving course - not yet!  So this is my next challenge for the summer holidays.  As long as I get all my work done over the next few weeks, I should have a free summer to do all this stuff (I also want to do a track day).  Although, my brilliant brother-in-law let me drive his Porsche 911 GT3RS a few weeks ago, very cool!

All of these have been done over the past couple of months as opposed to starting in January when I said I would.  The first few months of the year was spent thinking what a total train wreck my life had become and why I'd lost the ability to cope like normal people.  On Friday 13th May, Mum got the all clear from her latest operation.  A massive cause for celebration for all the obvious reasons, but also an unexpected realisation about how much her diagnosis had affected me.  I figured that after the January/February meltdown I was ok, or at least working on it, but actually however much you try and get on with it, you actually don't.  You live in limbo waiting for the next lot of results, for the next crisis or symptom of one of us not coping, or something - there's always something.  It's only when it's over that you realise how all-consuming it is for everyone.  I'm suddenly free, we all are.  This has been a big learning curve.  Just when I thought I'd got a handle on it, I realised I hadn't.  Everyone has been so patient with me; I couldn't have done the last 6months without friends at work, friends in life, my sisters, everyone has put up with my random out-of-control ranting about lack of paperclips, falling asleep with my eyes open in meetings, putting my car keys in the fridge (as my uncle pointed out, where the hell did I put the car??) and all the other ridiculously badly thought out things I did/said/thought.  

So, what happens now? Well, Race For Life is in July so I'll keep training till then at least, I'm hoping to finish in 30mins, but that's quite a challenge.  I'll book a stunt day/track day at some point for the summer and take it from there.  The next big thing is saving to buy a house - dur dur durrrrrrrr! I still have no idea where I want to live, but I know where I want to work, so eventually I'll make a decision, that's a plan for next year at least.  Who knows, tomorrow I might meet the man of my dreams, who happens to be a millionaire, own a yacht harboured in Monte Carlo (just missed the Grand Prix though) who wants to sweep me off my feet so that I can leave my job and open the school of performing arts for children and adults with disabilities.  But until then, I'll carry on making my own luck and hopefully, not losing the plot again any time soon!

Don't think I don't love you because I didn't look back, it's because I didn't want you to see me crying.

"When you meet the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, you want the rest of your life to start as quickly as possible."
                           - When Harry Met Sally
You love me.  You miss me.  You think about me all the time.  How can you tell me you love me and be with another woman? How can you love me and be with another woman?  Truth is, you don't.  You may miss me, you may think about me, but that's not love.  Do you remember what love is? Do you have any idea how I feel?  Do you remember when we first met?  Do you remember the first words you said to me?  Do you know I told my friend I've just met the man I'm going to marry?  Do you know that I mean what I say when I say it?  Do you know I don't believe you any more?  Do you know that last night you broke me?

You annoy me so much sometimes.  You forget everything I say, you forget all the important things to me. We can be talking for an hour before you say "how are you?"  You don't wash up until the next morning.  You leave stuff all over the place.  You're obsessed with the latest gadget.  You think salary is a measure of success.  Do you think I'm successful?  You have the most ridiculous numberplate ever invented.  You never commit till the last minute then claim to be a planner.  You're stubborn and will not give up... ever.  You spend loads of time on really pointless tasks.

But, for some reason you've been in my life for two years now and I can't let you go.  Because as well as all the stuff that winds me up, you're also the most generous, caring, thoughtful person I know.  You don't take any of my excuses/lies/sh*t, basically.  You think I can do anything and never doubt me, even when I massively doubt myself.  You make me want to be better.  You put up with my sarcasm.  You let me duck out of awkward conversations until I really need to face them.  You laugh at my stupid jokes.  You trust me.  You know when I need a hug.  Your smile makes me smile.  I can spot you in a bar in seconds.  You make me laugh more than anyone in the world (except maybe, Michael McIntyre).  You're my favourite person to be with.

I have no idea if I love you.  I'm still waiting for the madness to stop so I can get my life back on track and remember my own name.  I know I want you around.  I know I've missed you so much, everyday is like a new mission to stay away from you.  I know how I feel when we're together.  Some days I wish we'd never met.

You told me you love me, then you met someone else.  What? Why? How?  Last night I told you I never want to see you again.  I told you it was self-preservation.  I told you I hated you.  I meant every word, regardless of how much it hurt to say them.  I hope I don't love you.  I hope this isn't how it feels.  I hope it's better.  I hope the man who loves me, loves me, and doesn't just say the words.

I left you this morning and I'm not coming back.  It's going to hurt to do it, but I have to.  I'm going to slowly put myself back together and remember that I'm the strongest person in the world.  I've come through worse times than this and I've been hurt more badly than what you've done.  I've rebuilt my life before and I'll do it again.  I may be on my own, but I'm all I need.  But, understand that when you watched me walk away, don't think I don't love you because I didn't look back, it's because I didn't want you to see me crying.

Please Drive Carefully!

You turn 17; you can buy a lottery ticket, smoke, get married, you're not quite mature enough to buy alcohol, but you are mature enough to be put in control of a 1/2 ton ball of steel.  Everyone hears about teenager drivers being stupid, driving too fast, being reckless in order to look cool in front of their mates, but you don't hear as much about the tragic accidents that happen every day to people who are careful.

February 20th was the day one of my 14 year old students was killed walking to school.  A car was slowly overtaking another that had stopped to drop someone off, she stepped off the pavement without looking and was hit.  She would have been ok, but her head hit the kerb and she died.  Today, right in front of me, a man lost consciousness at the wheel of his van, mounted the pavement and killed a woman walking down the high street.  Both of these were tragic accidents that should never have happened.  Both drivers were being careful, both were sensible, responsible, experienced drivers, but both now have to live with the fact that they have killed someone.

I've driven for 9 years, I consider myself to be an ok driver, a bit fast, but safe.  I sometimes think we've become desensitised to how we drive; sometimes we forget that we are in charge of potentially lethal weapons.  When we're learning, we are so aware of every bump, every drain cover, every tiny curve in the road, every pedestrian and cyclist within a 5mile radius, every second of every journey is embedded in our brains, but how many times have you been cruising along happily and can't remember the last 2minutes?  Do you know the colour of the car behind you?  Why is the 3rd car in front breaking?  The single headlight coming towards you is actually a car with a bulb out, not a motorbike...

It is awful enough to realise you could have avoided an accident, but how awful must it be to realise there was nothing you could do?  No matter how good you are, how careful you are, how safe you are.  There was nothing you could do.

Remember: No text or phone call is THAT important, no meeting is THAT urgent, you are NOT ok if you have had 1 small beer, you are NOT ok if you have been up all night...  Please be careful, please think, if you want to take a risk, go skydiving!

A Boy Called Mitch

Year 8 RE lesson: 
Mr Archibald, “If statistics remain true, by the time you leave in year 11, you will have lost someone in your year group”. 

On the last day of year 11: 
Me, “We’re all here”. 
Mr Archibald, “You don’t know how lucky you are”. 

And I didn’t. 

Over my entire school career I was lucky enough to pass my GCSE’s with everyone I started year 7 with. Something every child should be able to say, but that very few can. I’m always amazed at how resilient children are and how they just get on with whatever life throws at them, but never more so than with my year 10 class at my last school. I’m so proud of them and so thankful for everything they’ve taught me over that last year (2009). 

September 16th 2009 was the first anniversary of the death of my first best friend, Michael. The month it happened I was working with a 6th form group who were directing a TIE performance about a suicide chatroom. The day before the dress rehearsal I got a phonecall to say Michael had killed himself. I went into school and continued as if nothing had happened, the most important thing being that the rehearsal went well and that the students got the best grades they could. At the moment the lead actor decided not to give up and instead burst into a slightly irrational, but release-filled routine to Cotton Eye Joe, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. 

Michael had reached the lowest point possible and couldn’t cope with what his mind was doing to him. I have so many regrets about how I could have helped, how I could have stopped him, how I could have been there; the truth is, there is absolutely nothing anyone could have done. At 23 (and just days before his own 23rd birthday) I couldn’t get my head around the fact that he was gone. 

Then came a boy called Mitch. 

Mitch taught me what happens when you don’t give up. He was the kindest, most lovable little lad I’ve met in a long long time and he was fighting the most horrible illness that he didn’t deserve (he was bloody good at drama too!). Mitch was one of my year 10’s and despite missing a lot of school due to treatment, he came in and carried on the best he could. I remember him coming in after Christmas and he was really cold and so sat by the radiator going over the resource pack I’d made him for his coursework. I gave him my ski jacket to keep him warm, but told him not to nick off with my car keys in the pocket! He joked he was warmer in bed and that next lesson he would just bring his duvet in and sit in the corner, “you’ll say don’t worry, it’s just Mitch!” On Wednesday 20th May I taught year 10 lesson 4 as usual, as if nothing had happened; I sent them off to a special year assembly, as if nothing had happened. Staff were told that morning that Mitch had not recovered from his bone marrow transplant and we had lost him. My year 10’s returned for lesson 5 knowing they would never see him again. That lesson is a blur; a room of children crying, laughing, punching lockers, sitting silently, talking, walking and trying to get their heads around the fact that he was gone. The whole time I tried to forget the look Mitch’s best friend had given me when he found out; did he know I already knew? did he know I’d sent him into the trenches knowing the outcome? did he understand why I couldn’t tell him sooner? 

Over the weeks and finally months, my 10’s showed me what it means to never give up. Mitch never gave up. They have shown me what it is to live every day and appreciate the people who come into our lives; some are there to help us, some are there to trip us up, but all are there to teach us something. They also taught me the true meaning of “shut up and get on with it!” I will never forget them and never give up. 

One day I woke up and Michael and Mitch weren’t the first things I thought of. 
One day I’ll wake up and stop hating myself for it. 

To date or not to date?

Oh my God I'm bored! Sadly I've been very poorly this week, to the point where I ended up in A&E on Monday, not ideal!  So now I'm stuck in bed for the week, feeling physically exhausted and mentally frustrated!  Why is it you recover mentally so much faster than you recover physically?  I've got so much I want to do (including going back to work), but I'm knackered walking 10 steps to the kitchen - that's the kitchen in my flat, not the one downstairs - how completely ridiculous!  I'm not happy!

So, let's chat!

I hate internet dating sites, it's like Carry On Loving, but without the comedy and the distinct risk of ending up with a psychopath!  I hate the idea of 'talking' to someone and seeing static images of them, before you even know what the moving image looks like or what their voice sounds like.  I hate the idea of my grandchildren asking how we met and me saying, well, luckily my internet connection was working that day and while I gazed lovingly at my mac, I realised the 2D image looking back at me was the man of my dreams...!  Not exactly the fairytale story I was hoping for; my idea of Prince Charming did not come via fibre optic broadband!  So, you may now scream hypocrite at your screens, because I have joined up!  Yes, sadly I have several friends who have met online and being in the position where I just don't meet nice guys, I've succumbed to the temptation and created a profile!  I like to think of it as my online, emotional/mental CV - please read with care!  I still hate everything about this impersonal way of meeting people, but I have realised that there may be some ok ones out there thinking the same as me.  Firstly I was surprised at just how many people there are who think the same as me... there were, quite literally, hundreds all saying the same thing "I just don't meet the right kind of people on nights out".  I'm very sociable, I get on with anyone, I can chat to anyone, I have lots of friends, put me in a room full of people and I'll get on with 90% - the problem is, I don't meet nice, funny, genuine single guys anymore.  They're all married, living with someone or gay.  The worst part is that when they say they're attached, they still give me their phone number and suggest we meet up! As if not meeting anyone was bad enough, meeting perspective cheaters is even worse!

Beware the one's who say they're normal!

I met one guy; really nice, funny, very very cute, good job, lived quite far away, but that's ok, lots in common, got on really well, we'll call him Pete.  Arranged to meet up, but then he got last minute football tickets to see West Ham - not ideal, but ok, it was a good match, he apologised, rearranged, I agreed a second chance (I am, after all a semi-nice person).  The we arranged to meet up in Windsor one night after work; he text as I as getting in the car to say he was tired!  Hmmm! Second chance and he spectacularly bombed!  The point being, he had no idea what he'd done wrong.  He said such gems as "you won't have made special effort though, I bet you look the same as you do any night" and "well, I'm free the rest of the week or the weekend" - yeah I bet you are... wonder why!  After a few well-worded/advisory texts I told him exactly where to go and to stop wasting my time.

I met another guy who was very graphic about how he's like to meet me and what I should be wearing... enough said!

I've been emailing several people who all seem very nice and normal and take an interest in me blah blah blah, but no one who really makes me go WOW (except Pete, sadly he did - look what happened there)! So how successful is this 'dating game' likely to be?  Ordinarily you filter the men in your life through visual, auditory and mental clues when you see them, speak to them and get to know them.  It can be as simple as when they walk across the room (think rude-boy swagger), open their mouth and say something ridiculous (think Joe Pasquale's voice), or when they text "hows u doin m8" (grammar snob alert)!  But how much of an informed decision can you make when your computer filters the results for you??  This also begs the absurd question of what on earth do I sound like online?  My profile says I'm interested in the theatre, socialising, dancing, wining and dining and F1.  Some have said that I sound 'reassuringly normal and honest' because I don't go on about how important my family is - so do they assume I'm a cold-hearted b*tch?  The truth is I do care about my family and friends more than anything, money is so unimportant to me that I spent 3 years volunteering doing the job I get paid to do now, I make an insane amount of lists and have slight/moderate OCD.  If I put that on paper, who am I going to attract?  The fact is, no profile is an honest review of your personality, you need to meet in person and get to know someone before you realise any of this stuff is true/false/right/wrong.  Profile's are like Facebook - you're in danger of representing the person you want to be, not the person you are.

Question: do I keep the profile, see what happens, meet some people and get back in the so-called dating game? OR scrap the profile, keep going out and meeting the wrong people, hope that something works out?  Is either way better than the other?  Is either any more real than the other?  Does either make me more or less of a loser?  Hmmm, I'll keep you posted!